Loneliness
by Amber Komasaki
Summary: Alright, this is a fanfiction about Gannen and Steve's relationship, oneshot and slash. It's not extremely graphic, rated teen just in case. This is my first slash fic, but I think it keeps them in character. Please review!


The room was dark when Steve entered, and he could practically hear his own heartbeat echoing through it—Ba-bump, ba-bump—the pace increasing with each footstep he took. Beneath his feet, the carpet felt strangely worn; it smelled old, stale, like the nonfiction books at a library, or the classics that nobody ever bothered to read.

He felt around for the light switch, mostly out of habit, knowing that even when he flicked it there wouldn't be any light. The power had been shut off ages ago, but he didn't need the light to see; it was more to ease his growing nostalgia than anything else.

"So this was your home?"

Gannen's calm, supple voice came from behind him, startling him; he'd forgotten that the older vampaneze was there. Turning quickly, Steve gave Gannen an appraising sort of look before replying.

"If you could call it that…yes," he looked up.

Standing next to Steve, Gannen was taller by a few inches. He had dark hair and features that, in dim light or the absence of, he was somewhat camouflaged. Dressed in slacks and a nice jacket—complete with a kind of teal, patterned tie—Gannen was very refined, for being a creature of the night.

Steve wiped aside a few of his grayish bangs and shrugged, drawling, "I never liked it here. I spend all my time dreaming of becoming a vampire. Darren and I…"

He broke off, frustration welling-up inside him. Why had he said that? Shifting uneasily, he moved his gaze to the sofa—they were in the living room—and tried to push Darren from his mind.

"It's alright to think of him," Gannen said softly, putting a comforting hand on Steve's shoulder, "I think of Vancha all the time…"

Steve's shoulder twitched involuntarily, but he didn't try to move away. He turned from the sofa and gazed forlornly around the rest of the room; the house hadn't changed since he'd left years ago.

"Vancha's your brother," Steve said apathetically, "Darren is…was…my friend. It's different."

Gannen's hand slid from Steve's shoulder to his neck, playing with a few tendrils of gray hair that had escaped from his ponytail, "It's not so different as you might think," he said quietly, longingly.

Steve moved forwards, away from his protector, "Yes it _is_, Gannen. Are you _not_ listening to me?" his voice held an edge of irritation now, as Gannen's hand slid from his shoulder.

Moving to follow him, the vampaneze smiled cordially, "You're right. It's different."

"That's better."

Steve leaned up close to him, a mere couple centimeters between them, with a slight smirk starting at the corners of his mouth, "Are you just agreeing with me because you're afraid of me?"

His voice melted into a sweet, taunting tone, and Gannen found that he couldn't help himself; he closed the distance between them. Steve's lips were chapped and felt like sandpaper against his own smooth, glossy ones—it was the strangest sensation he had ever felt, and yet he couldn't let go.

Steve's eyes widened and he pulled away quickly, staring at Gannen as though the man were possessed, "What the _hell_ was that!"

Gannen, still trembling from his own sudden impulse, found his voice, "What do you want it to be…?"

Steve licked his lips contemplatively, unsure how to respond. He breathed raggedly for a few moments; positive that Gannen's dark eyes could see right through him, positive that Gannen could hear his innermost thoughts and feelings as vividly as if he'd spoken them aloud.

"How do you know I want it to be anything?"

Standing awkwardly, trying to match Gannen's satisfied gaze, Steve swallowed nervously. He was usually the one playing games—it jarred him, but intrigued him, to be in the opposite place.

"How do you know you don't?"

Unable to stand it any longer, Steve moved forwards, seizing Gannen's jaw with one hand. He held him there for a split second, watching him grin like an idiot, then pressed his lips to the vampaneze' hungrily. Gannen smirked shrewdly—as Steve's tongue lashed about in his mouth—and pulled the ponytail out of his lord's hair playfully.

Steve laughed and tugged at Gannen's tie, drawing him even closer and sloppily kissing the side of his mouth—not done intentionally, but the impact as Gannen came closer caused him to slip a little.

Finally, Steve surfaced for air; real air, not just those little breaths that made him lightheaded. His hair was tousled in the back, and sticking up oddly due to Gannen's little game. He looked back at his protector, not quite sure how to react after such a blatant display of emotions he'd tried to banish.

Gannen ended the silence, "Steve..."

"You tell anyone about this and I put a quick end to you, Gannen," Steve responded hotly, trying to act as though unfazed.

Gannen smiled fondly at him, "Of course."

Straightening out his hair, Steve wandered away from Gannen and further into his own house. He stopped at his room, breathless even though it was only a few yards from where he'd been. Certainly he hadn't just done what he thought he had...had he?

Shaking his head, Steve licked his lips again and pushed the door open. The house didn't feel as empty or lonely, anymore.


End file.
